


Fill My Heart With Song and Let Me Sing Forevermore

by Thats_Amore



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Breakfast, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Hetalia Countries Using Human Names, Hetalia Kink Meme, M/M, Nationverse, POV South Italy (Hetalia), Tooth-Rotting Fluff, frank sinatra songs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:08:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25621891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thats_Amore/pseuds/Thats_Amore
Summary: The bed is cold without America, and Romano goes downstairs to see why his boyfriend isn't watching him sleep.
Relationships: America/South Italy (Hetalia)
Comments: 13
Kudos: 48
Collections: Hetalia Kink Meme





	Fill My Heart With Song and Let Me Sing Forevermore

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from the song "Fly Me to the Moon."

Upon awakening, the first thing Romano noticed was that he felt cold, even with the sheets and comforter over his bare skin. This might not be unusual for a New York City apartment in the middle of January, but Lovino usually woke up with Alfred holding onto him. Even when he woke up first, America had the strangely cute habit of staring at Romano as he slept, so Lovino rarely woke up alone when their duties as nations didn’t keep them on separate continents. Alfred naturally trapped heat like a human furnace, so Romano always felt warm whenever America shared a bed with him.

Lovino rubbed his tired eyes, sat up, and glanced around at Alfred’s empty bedroom. Even with the movie posters and all the knick-knacks America had collected over the years, the room felt strangely cavernous and silent without his boyfriend’s exuberant and overly affectionate presence. Romano missed America, even if he was in no sense a morning person and needed at least two cappuccinos to function before noon, much less deal with his hyperactive idiota.

Lovino stood up to stretch and checked the night stand. Alfred hadn’t left a note, so he was probably still in the house. Romano walked over to the dresser to get some boxers, pulled them on, then ventured downstairs to see what America was doing.

The scent of bacon and the sound of jazz led him to the kitchen. Romano chuckled when he recognized the song as “Fly Me to the Moon” by Frank Sinatra. Alfred could be old-fashioned and sentimental when the mood struck him, but he never acted that way at large gatherings like the world meetings. He was only comfortable revealing his inner sappiness to the people he was particularly close to, and Romano felt lucky to be one of the people America trusted.

Lovino was smiling as he entered the kitchen, and that smile broadened into a grin as he saw America dancing around in his American flag print boxers and an apron that probably had the words “kiss the cook” or some other equally cheesy slogan printed on the front. Alfred was wiggling his hips as he whisked the eggs, and he was singing along with the song playing on his iPod on speakers. America’s voice was nowhere near as melodious as Ol’ Blue Eyes, but Romano appreciated it regardless. Seeing Alfred this unguarded, joyful, and domestic gave Lovino a warm, fluttery sensation in his stomach.

America was focused on the stovetop, so he didn’t notice Romano’s presence in the room until Romano walked over and embraced him from behind. Alfred went still in surprise and sighed contently when Lovino planted a kiss at the nape of his neck.

“Morning, caro.”

“Good morning, honey.” America set down the whisk and turned around to hug Romano tightly. He swayed their bodies back and forth in some lazy mimicry of a dance.

Romano relaxed into the hug and closed his eyes. After a long and peaceful silence, he decided to point out the obvious. “The bacon’s gonna burn if you keep hugging me.”

“Don’t care,” America declared. Romano could tell Alfred was beaming like a human sunbeam from the bright, cheerful sound of his voice. “You are all I long for, all I worship and adore,” he sang in Lovino’s ear, right in time with Frank Sinatra.

Romano giggled. “Ti amo anch’io, goofball.”

America eventually pulled away from the hug, but not before giving Romano an Eskimo kiss first. When he turned back to the stove, Lovino peeked down to see what the front of his apron looked like and smirked. It was even sillier than he had imagined. The phrase “baci il cuoco” was emblazoned on the front.

“Really, Al? You had to get an apron that says ‘kiss the cook’ in Italian?”

“Of course, darlin’. You’re the only one I want kissing me.”

Lovino rolled his eyes and quickly pecked Alfred’s cheek. America’s face developed a rosy hue, and Romano laughed as he stepped away. It was flattering that a simple gesture of affection could still make America blush considering the other things they had done together.

America continued singing and dancing as he prepared breakfast, and Romano headed over to the espresso machine make himself a cappuccino. He was pleased to note that America had already pre-heated the machine for him. Alfred did a lot of things, both big and small, that made Lovino feel loved and appreciated.

Eventually, “Fly Me to the Moon” ended, and “I’ve Got You Under My Skin” started. America shot Romano significant looks as he sang along, and Romano smiled as he started drinking his first cappuccino of the day.

When the bacon and eggs were ready, America dished them up onto two plates and turned off his iPod. Lovino got forks for both of them and took a plate to eat at the table. Alfred removed his apron and followed him.

As they ate, Romano felt America’s freezing toes brush over the inside of his calf and nearly choked on a bite of scrambled eggs. He narrowed his eyes, but Alfred only shrugged in response, completely unaffected by Lovino’s pitiful attempt at a glare. He could probably tell that Lovino wasn’t truly angry at all.

When Romano decided to return the favor, America looked delighted, like Romano had just presented him with an engagement ring instead of his frigid toes. They played footsie as they ate, occasionally glancing at each other like two shy teenagers on a first date. Considering who they were, they were acting pretty ridiculous, but Romano was too happy to care.

At one point, Alfred winked at him, and Lovino felt heat creeping up his neck. His curl was probably turning into a heart shape, but Romano was too embarrassed to check. “Idiota,” he mumbled into his coffee.

“ _Your_ idiota,” America said, puffing up with pride.

Romano huffed out a quiet laugh and looked up into earnest, sky blue eyes framed with a pair of glasses. “Always.”


End file.
